


Cheesecake, Kisses and Other Forms of Art

by mfalfanclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Kind of Christmasy kind of not, M/M, There’s kind of a plot but not really, how do yall do tags this is so hard, it’s only rated teens because there’s like 1 insinuated dick joke, johnil, just a bunch of fluff ok, v brief johnil, yuwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mfalfanclub/pseuds/mfalfanclub
Summary: Yuta’s working at the bakery with his friend Johnny on Christmas Eve and his crush from his anthropology class walks in an hour to close. Fluff ensues





	Cheesecake, Kisses and Other Forms of Art

The bakery was cast in shades of yellow and gold as low evening sunlight streamed in sideways through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Yuta rarely worked afternoon shifts—he usually opened mornings—but he had picked up an extra Christmas Eve shift from Jaehyun, who was out of town for the holiday to see his family. Usually Yuta was in class during the golden hour, not at the Boulangerie. With his chin in his hand and his elbow propping him up on the counter, he admired the empty tables and chairs gleaming in the translucent light.

“4 o’clock,” Johnny’s voice rang out behind him. “One hour to close. We only have to get through one more customerless hour.”

Yuta stood up and turned to face Johnny. “You never told me how pretty it gets in here in the afternoons.”

Johnny was licking donut glaze off his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at Yuta. “What, the sun? Guess I never thought about it.”

Yuta watched Johnny slide up the clerk window to the pastry display case and pull out another donut. “How the fuck are you beanpole thin when you eat like this. I swear to god,” Yuta said.

Johnny patted his stomach and said proudly, “Good metabolism,” before biting into the donut and chewing exaggeratedly with a smug smile.

Yuta sighed and turned to lean against the counter again. “At least there’s no one here to see you eating everything.”

Johnny moved to stand next to him and together they looked over the display case at the empty bakery. “Still don’t understand why the fuck Manager Yoo bothered to open at all on Christmas Eve,” Johnny said through a mouthful of donut. “Half the students on campus went home for Christmas and all the real people who live around here are probably at home with their families.”

“I bet he thought someone would come in at the last second to buy a bunch of stuff for Christmas dessert or something.”

Johnny shrugged and turned around, nudging Yuta with his elbow as he went. “Want some hot chocolate?”

Yuta shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

Christmas Eve. Later that night, Yuta would head home to wrap presents, and tomorrow he, Johnny, Taeyong and Taeil were going over to Doyoung’s house to exchange gifts for what Taeyong had dubbed “Friendsmas.” Yuta couldn’t deny that a part of him wished he could just stay home and nap through the day. Finals week at the university had done a number on everyone’s sleep schedules, and Yuta still wasn’t caught up. He closed his eyes. He could hear the heating unit whirring from the corner. The hot chocolate machine grumbled and then spat as Johnny pressed the hot chocolate button. One hour, Yuta thought, and let his thoughts settle into stillness. Quiet gathered for a short moment—and then was cut by the squeal of the entry bell at the front of the bakery, signaling that the door had been opened.

Yuta’s eyes shot open and instantly lit upon a familiar face, pink from the cold and partially obscured by a thick knit scarf, looking around the bakery as the door swung shut behind it. Yuta froze. Behind him, Johnny released the hot chocolate button and set his mug down on the counter with a clink, chirping in his customer voice, “Welcome to the Boulangerie! Merry Christmas Eve!”

The boy who had just walked in turned his head towards the display case, eyes briefly glancing over Johnny and Yuta’s faces. “Oh. Thanks, you too.” He moved for a table in the corner by the window, struggling to peel off his tightly wrapped scarf as he went. Yuta’s eyes trailed him for a moment and then he looked away away, feeling his face heating up.

“Well,” Johnny was saying as he reached into the display case for a chocolate croissant, “looks like we’ve got one customer after all.” He picked his hot chocolate back up, dunked the croissant into it, and took a bite.

“Guess so,” Yuta said, trying hopelessly to will the blood to stop rising in his cheeks. 

Johnny glanced at Yuta and stopped chewing, squinting at him. “Why do you look like someone just grabbed your balls and yanked?”

“The fuck?”

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuta drew slightly closer to Johnny and lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but the guy that just walked in, he’s the hot guy from anthro class.”

Johnny turned his head to look behind him and Yuta kicked him in the shin. Johnny leapt back, hot chocolate sloshing out of his mug.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“I told you not to look, dickweed!”

“Chill. He didn’t see, he’s looking at his phone.”

Yuta peered around Johnny’s towering frame at the boy in the corner, whose scarf, phone and pink mittens lay in a heap on the tabletop in front of him. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed into them to warm them up. Following Yuta’s gaze, Johnny snuck another glance behind him.

“That’s the guy you’ve had a crush on since like the beginning of the semester?”

“Pretty much,” Yuta whispered.

Johnny let out an incredulous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. He comes in here all the fucking time.”

“He what?”

“No shit. He’s kind of a regular. I think I’ve only ever seen him here on afternoon shifts, but yeah, he knows my name and everything. I mean, granted, I wear a name tag but like. He’s pretty nice. He likes green tea lattes.”

Yuta covered his face in his hands and tried to suppress a groan, then pulled Johnny closer to the cash register so that the boy wouldn’t be able to see either of their faces. “What the fuck! Why do I never work afternoons! Hot guy from anthro class is a regular at the place I work and we’ve never crossed paths once?”

“Until now,” Johnny grinned. He delicately pinched the handle of his hot chocolate cup and stuck his pinkie out, taking a sip as he wiggled his eyebrows at Yuta.

Yuta put his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Do you know his name?”

Johnny shook his head, eyebrows still jumping up and down.

“Mmm...think he’s...”

“Pardon?” said Johnny.

“I said, do you think he’s...”

Johnny sidestepped Yuta and took another casual look around the bakery. “Pink mittens, plaid scarf. Nice hair. Bi energy? Don’t quote me on that.”

Yuta restrained himself from fist pumping. “I knew it! I knew that guy wasn’t straight.”

“I said, don’t quote me,” said Johnny. “Remember, ASSuming makes an ASS out of YOU and ME.”

“Okay, but still, your gaydar hasn’t been wrong once in our eight years of knowing each other, so.”

“Welllll...” Johnny giggled and slapped the air in faux bashfulness.

Yuta grabbed a rag from underneath the counter and opened the gate to the rest of the bakery, circling around to the front of the pastry display so he could pretend to inspect the glass for smudges. The boy from his anthropology class was scrolling through his phone, eyebrows drawn together. He had sat down in the corner where the evening sun was the thickest, creating an almost halo-like glow over his blond head. Johnny watched in amusement as Yuta’s mouth fell slightly open and the circles his hand was wiping on the display case slowed and finally stopped.

“Dude,” Johnny laughed. Yuta jumped and looked across the display. “Stop staringgg,” Johnny teased.

“I’m not staring. Oh, shit, I was staring. Shit!” He leaned over the top of the display case, pleading, “Look at him though! How would anyone not stare? He looks like a...a...!”

“Greek god. Movie star. Angel,” Johnny supplied, and Yuta snapped his fingers. “Yes! Yes, the last one. He looks like an angel over there.”

Johnny looked down at his phone, still chuckling. “If you say so.”

Realizing that he looked ridiculous wiping at glass that was already perfectly clear, Yuta pushed open the gate and went back behind the pastry display. Bending his legs, he ducked underneath the counter to throw the rag onto the shelf.

“Hey, man,” he heard Johnny say. Yuta was about to answer when a voice on the other side of the display said, “Hi, Johnny, how’s it going.”

At the sound of the voice, Yuta tried to stand up and slammed his head against the underside of the counter with a deafening crack. “Fuck!” he gasped and fell backwards.

“Holy shit, dude,” said Johnny.

“I’m fine. Fine!” Yuta stumbled to his feet, smiling brightly, one hand on the back of his head and the other frantically giving an “all-good” wave. His gaze swiveled from Johnny, trying to hold back a snicker, to the boy on the other side of the counter who was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth in an O shape.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked.

Yuta tried to catch his breath. His head hurt like a motherfucker. “Yeah,” he huffed, and tried to get his balance by putting one hand on the counter in what he hoped looked like a casual gesture. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Because it sounded like you hit your head pretty hard,” the guy said doubtfully, and Yuta shook his head vehemently. “No worries. All good, haha.”

The boy, whose hands were now tucked inside the pockets of the puffy winter coat he had never taken off, smiled uncertainly. Yuta felt his heart clench a little even as his head throbbed.

“Sorry about that,” Johnny interceded, waving towards Yuta like he was an annoying fly. “He’ll be fine. What can I get for you?”

“Uh, a medium green tea latte would be great. Thanks.”

“You got it,” Johnny said, and made change for the ten thousand won that the boy handed him.

“Thanks,” the boy said again, bowing slightly and then smiling in Yuta’s direction before walking back to his seat. Yuta wasn’t sure if it was a friendly smile or a pity smile, but regardless it made the warmth in his stomach spread.

“Jesus, Yuta, are you really okay?” Johnny asked when he was out of earshot, unable now to hold back laughter.

“When the fuck did he get here?” said Yuta, still holding the back of his head. “One second I was cleaning the display and then the next second he was up there ordering—”

“Does he actually make you that nervous? Wow. He’s something,” Johnny chuckled as he grabbed a medium sized cup to prepare the green tea. 

“I’ve been admiring him from across the lecture hall for months, I’ve never talked to him before today! Cut me some slack,” Yuta hissed. Johnny shook his head, still laughing.

Yuta rubbed the back of his head for a moment as Johnny made the latte. When he stole another glance towards the corner, the boy’s wide brown eyes were already on him. Quickly they flicked down to his phone. Yuta sucked in a breath and felt his face flushing again.

“Gimme that,” he said, snatching the latte out of Johnny’s hands and picking up a lid. Johnny grabbed for the cup back. “Cinnamon. The cinnamon, idiot.”

“We put cinnamon in our green teas?”

Johnny reached over Yuta’s arm and shook the cinnamon once over the foam. “There. Now you can do whatever you want with it, weirdo.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuta snapped a lid onto the top of the cup and, before he could think twice about it, pushed through the gate to take the latte to the boy’s table.

“Here you go,” Yuta said breathlessly, setting the tea down on the sliver of tabletop not already occupied by the enormous plaid scarf. “Enjoy!”

The boy was even prettier up close—long eyelashes, an elfin pointed chin and a kind of earnestness in his big eyes. “Thanks, uh.” His eyes focused on Yuta’s nametag and his lips moved as if he were sounding it out. “Yuta,” he said finally, smiling up at him proudly.

Yuta wanted to scream. Instead he just smiled and nodded and said “Enjoy” again, moving away without turning around. He backed up so far that he almost tipped over a table, but managed to grab it before it fell and stand it back up with a clatter. Yuta gave one more sheepish smile and then ran to the back.

“That’s all? You just gave him the tea and left?” Johnny asked as Yuta stepped back behind the counter again.

“I choked,” Yuta whimpered, folding his arms on the counter and putting his head down. “He said my name and smiled at me and my brain short circuited.”

“Holy shit, man, I can’t remember the last time I saw you like this.”

“Ughhhhhh.”

Johnny kicked at the heel of his shoe. “Fuck, get it together. I mean, it’s just a boy, right? No reason to freak out.”

“That’s not a boy,” Yuta muttered at the floor, “that’s the boy.”

“For fuck’s sake. Okay, if he’s the boy, then do something about it.”

“Like what?” Yuta stood up.

Johnny made a face at Yuta as he reached yet again into the display case. “How would I know?”

“Well, you have a boyfriend. How did you get Taeil to date you?”

Johnny shrugged and said through a mouthful of croissant, “Gave him food.”

“Food?” Yuta repeated.

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“Basically,” said Johnny, returning his attention to his phone. Yuta watched his thumbs punch at the screen, pause, and then hold the phone out. Johnny was grinning. “Look.”

Yuta peered at the screen. Taeil’s red-haired contact photo was smiling above a pair of messages.

hey babe what made u want to date me

Idk? You gave me a lot of food

As Yuta read, another message appeared in gray at the bottom. That and the fact that you have a ridiculously massive—

“Okay! Great. Thank you. Very enlightening,” Yuta said, giving Johnny two thumbs up. Johnny blinked at him, then looked at his phone and flushed brightly.

“Oh fuck. Hah. Uh. Sorry.”

“I mean it’s not like we ain’t been knew,” Yuta said. While Johnny blushed redder, Yuta glanced back at the corner, where the blond boy was gazing out the window, hands wrapped around the tea cup with the protective heat slip removed. The gold sunlight on him was beginning to fade to a pale, watery orange.

“Food. Okay. Food,” Yuta said. He wiped his hands on his apron and gestured at the display case. “Should I? Like? Give him something?”

“Sure,” said Johnny. “Say it’s on the house.”

“Nice. Okay.” Yuta slid up the window to the display and stared at the array of pastries and cakes, momentarily at a loss. He turned back to Johnny, who was watching him as he chewed away contentedly. “What does he like?”

Johnny held out his hands. “Again, how would I know?”

“Ah, fuck.” Yuta scanned the contents of the display one more time. “What about...like...cheesecake? Everyone likes cheesecake, right?”

“I guess.” Johnny drained his cup and returned to the hot chocolate machine for more.

“Strawberry?”

Johnny sighed, turned his head around and said, “Sure. He’ll love it.”

Yuta lifted out a slice of strawberry cheesecake with the cake knife and laid it delicately on a small plate, stealing a fresh strawberry off a fruit tart to set on top. He reached for the whipped cream can, decided against it, grabbed a napkin, and turned around to face Johnny.

“How do I look?”

Johnny folded his arms and leaned against the counter, looking Yuta up and down. “Very homey.”

“Homey?”

“The Boulangerie apron gives you a certain domestic aura.”

“Johnny!”

“Relax, you look fine.” Johnny reached out and pushed Yuta’s hair back from his forehead. “Oh, nice, now you look hot.”

Yuta inhaled, looking down at the cheesecake in his hands. Suddenly he felt silly. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “Is this overkill? Am I being weird?”

Johnny rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove towards the gate. “Literally chill the fuck out. It’s just cheesecake.”

“Just cheesecake. Just cheesecake,” Yuta murmured as he made his way out from behind the counter and towards the corner. The boy was typing furiously at his phone, so focused that he didn’t seem to notice Yuta approaching until Yuta had arrived at the table. With a start he looked up and made a small “Oh!” noise.

“Sorry!” said Yuta, not sure what he was apologizing for.

“No, no. It’s fine,” the guy replied, and smiled.

For a moment they looked at each other, both grinning tentatively. Then Yuta remembered the cheesecake in his hands. “Oh! Um. Merry Christmas!” he said, setting the plate down on corner of the table, nudging the scarf out of the way. The blond boy blinked at it.

“I didn’t—I...is this...”

“It’s on the house!” Yuta said quickly. He gestured vaguely around him, gave a weak laugh and said, “You know, Christmas.”

The other boy smiled down at his hands, pressing his lips together slightly. Yuta felt like his heart was about to beat out his chest. “Christmas,” the boy repeated. He pointed at the cheesecake and added, “Love strawberries.”

Yuta laughed. “Me too!”

A beat passed and the boy said, “Hey, do you think I could get a fork for the...?”

“Oh! Oh my god, yeah, of course! Whoops.” Yuta let out another low laugh and then sprinted to Johnny. “Fork! Fork!”

“Fork, fork!” Johnny mimicked and handed him one over the counter.

“Here,” Yuta said as he arrived back st the table. “Sorry about that. Don’t know how you’re supposed to eat a cheesecake without a fork!” Yuta laughed.

The boy took the fork from him, smiling and shaking his head. “No problem! No, it’s totally fine. Thank you.”

Yuta nodded and said, “You’re welcome. Eat up!”

“I will!” the boy said.

“Great! Good.”

“Hey, uh, by the way,” he said, turning slightly in his chair to face Yuta, “you didn’t happen to have an anthropology class with Professor Park this semester, did you?”

He recognizes me? Yuta thought. He recognizes? ME? and then said aloud, “Yeah, I did! Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11, right?”

“Yeah! I thought I had seen you somewhere...”

“No, me too! You looked really familiar,” Yuta said.

“Yeah, same. You sat by the windows, right? I used to look over there to see if the sun was out and you...” Suddenly the boy stopped himself, shaking his head. “Yeah. It was a good class.”

“You always sat at the front,” Yuta blurted. A surprised smile crossed the boy’s face, and then he pursed his lips bashfully. “Yep,” he said with a soft laugh.

“How’d you feel about the final?” Yuta asked.

The boy squinted one eye adorably and made a so-so gesture with his hand. “Okay, I guess. There were a few questions that I totally guessed on, but I think overall...”

“Yeah, it was iffy in some places but...could’ve been worse.”

“Right! Exactly.”

A few seconds passed in silence, smiles and nods. Mind blank and unable to come up with another way to carry on the conversation, Yuta said, “Well, I hope you enjoy the cheesecake!” He bowed a little and turned away, already internally berating himself for letting an awkward silence stop him.

“Oh, um, actually...” the boy called behind him.

“Yeah?” Yuta spun around.

The boy looked at the cheesecake and then glanced towards Yuta without making eye contact. “Well, the cheesecake looks awesome! But it’s just that,” he hedged, circling over the cheesecake with the fork, “it’s, like, such a big piece? Like, I don’t know...”

Yuta leaned his head slightly closer in an attempt to understand what the boy was getting at.

“Don’t know if I can eat it all,” he continued. His eyes flickered up to Yuta’s and down again. “Like. There’s so much.”

“Oh.” Yuta laughed awkwardly again. “Yeah. There is a lot!” He looked down at the slice of cheesecake on the plate. It was barely wider than an icicle. Is he telling me to take it back? he thought, stomach dropping a little.

“Right,” the boy agreed. “It’s a lot.” Yuta noticed for the first time that he had a slight accent. “I feel like...it needs to be, like, shared.”

“Shared?” Yuta repeated dumbly.

The boy shrugged slightly. “Sure, if...just if...”

“Oh!” A swell of hope rose in Yuta’s chest. “You want...some help finishing the whole...”

“Yeah!” said the boy, who appeared relieved that Yuta had finally grasped what he was asking. He watched Yuta point at himself uncertainly, and nodded back eagerly. “If...! If you like cheesecake!”

“No, sure, I love cheesecake! That’s...yep, that’s perfect!” Yuta waved over at the display and said, “I’ll get another fork, be right back!”

Johnny’s eyebrows were all the way up his forehead when Yuta reached over the counter again muttering, “I need another fork.” He silently passed the fork across with a wide-eyed grin, then grabbed his phone to update Taeil as Yuta hurried back to the corner.

The boy was texting furiously again, but closed his phone as soon as Yuta arrived. He looked up and smiled. It was a broad, real smile, not the “are you okay” smile or the “thank you” smile of earlier but a smile of genuine happiness that looked like sunrise breaking over the horizon. Yuta cleared his throat to give his heart a second to settle. “Okay if I sit...?” he asked, tapping the chair facing the boy.

“Yeah, of course, sit.”

He’s even fucking cuter than I thought he was, Yuta was thinking as he sat down.

“How’s your...?” The boy patted the back of his head.

“Oh, my head? Fine. It’s totally okay,” Yuta said with a loud laugh. “Thanks for asking.” He pointed at the cheesecake. “Did you try it yet?”

“Nope! I’ll...” The boy broke a piece off with his fork and put it in his mouth, smiling immediately. At Yuta’s raised eyebrows, the boy nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Mmm. Mm-hm.” He swallowed and finally articulated, “Really good. Did you make it?”

Yuta laughed. “No, oh, no. I wish. The guy who makes them is only here in the mornings. I’ll give him your compliments next time I see him.”

“Yeah, do that!” The boy indicated the cheesecake with his fork and said, “Have some.”

Yuta happily obliged, taking a piece for himself. “That’s good,” he agreed, and the boy nodded with a grin.

Simultaneously, both boys’ phones vibrated on the table. Yuta’s message was from Johnny. BRO. HE LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE SET A TOMATO ON FIRE.

Yuta snuck a look at the boy across the table. He had been so conscious of himself blushing that he hadn’t noticed the other boy’s face was scarlet. The boy rolled his eyes at his phone and began to type. Yuta glanced back at Johnny, who was wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully again. Yuta squinted his eyes and made a “shut up” face before turning back around to the boy across from him, who was shutting off his phone. “Sorry. Just my friends’ group chat. It’s on silent now.” He laughed apologetically.

Yuta’s phone buzzed with another text from Johnny, which he didn’t even bother to read before putting it on Do Not Disturb. “Oh, no problem. Me too.”

The boy clasped the latte in his hands and took a sip. “So, Yuta,” he said, nodding at the name tag, “is that Korean? That doesn’t sound...”

Yuta couldn’t help but feel like the sound of his name in this boy’s gently accented voice constituted a small miracle. “No, yeah, you’re right, it’s Japanese,” he answered.

“Japanese?”

“Yeah, I’m from Osaka. Came here four years ago for school.”

“Wow, Osaka!” The boy nodded. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Yuta shrugged as the boy reached for another forkful of cheesecake. “It’s all right. Pretty different from Seoul.”

“Mm.”

“Hey, so...” Yuta tapped at the name tag on his apron. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours...”

The boy’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth, exclaiming through the mouthful of cheesecake, “Oh my gosh! I never—! I’m sorry! My name’s Sicheng, but everyone here calls me Winwin.”

“Ahh. Winwin,” Yuta tested it out. The boy gave another of his small, pursed smiles, as if he were holding back the world’s brightest grin. “Uh-huh. Sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I feel like we already know each other or something...”

Yuta blinked, suddenly tongue-tied. Winwin looked up at him, his smile freezing on his lips. One second turned to two and then five. The last of the evening sunlight had painted a stripe across the upper half of Winwin’s face, honeying his brown eyes. Yuta held his gaze, more out of dumbstruck immobility than of nerve, until it dropped to the cheesecake.

“You know, with anthro class and everything,” Winwin finished, digging his fork into the cheesecake rather aggressively.

“Oh. Yeah!” Yuta said, head spinning slightly from the long eye contact. He touched a finger to his temple, which made the other boy’s smile waver into a look of concern.

“Are you sure your head is okay—“

“Yes! It’s all right, I swear,” Yuta laughed, and quickly changed the subject. “So, ‘Sicheng’ is...”

Winwin giggled. Yuta stopped. “What? Did I say it wrong?”

“You kind of missed the tonal inflection. It’s hard. That’s why everyone calls me Wi—“

“Hang on, say it again. I want to get it right. No, seriously, I want to get it right,” Yuta insisted at Winwin’s laughter.

“Fine. Okay. Listen. It’s like...Si...” Winwin drew a horizontal line in the air, then flicked it upwards. “Cheng.”

“Si...cheng,” Yuta repeated, following the gestures with his fork.

Winwin let out a bigger laugh, which made Yuta pout indignantly. “Si...cheng,” Winwin said again.

“Sicheng.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was it!”

“Sicheng!” Yuta said happily.

Winwin let out a noise somewhere between “oh” and “aww,” covering his mouth again. Yuta laughed softly. A sense of quiet wonder was settling over him, like every word of this completely ordinary conversation was new and remarkable. Like he was discovering something unfamiliar piece by piece. He wasn’t quite sure what the feeling meant.

“Yeah...it’s Chinese,” Winwin was explaining. “But everyone in Korea just calls me Winwin.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Yuta exhaled slowly. “So you’re from China?”

Winwin nodded as he took a gulp of his latte. “I was born in Zhejiang, but I’ve been studying in Beijing.”

“Beijing, huh? What were you studying there?”

“Contemporary dance,” said Winwin.

Yuta couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open. A dancer. What kind of perfect human being was this person? “Wow,” he managed. “That sounds pretty hard.”

“It’s hard,” Winwin said, “but it’s...really...I enjoy it a lot. It’s. Ah, what’s the word.”

“Special? Fun...?”

“Well, it’s those things too, but that’s not the word I’m looking for.” Winwin unlocked his phone and pulled up a translator app, punching in characters that Yuta didn’t recognize. He glanced up for a moment before looking back down. “Sorry...”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize. I have to do that all the time.”

“Ahh. F...fulfilling?” Winwin sounded out. “That’s not...Oh! Rewarding. That’s what I meant to say!”

He’s so cute, Yuta thought. “That’s great! It’s really nice to feel like your time is well spent.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“So how’d you end up in Seoul, then?”

Winwin frowned slightly as he sliced off another bite of cheesecake. “Actually, I was invited here to teach Chinese traditional dance at an academy just outside the city. It’s linked to the university, so I can take classes here for free if I teach classes there three times a week. They have a kind of exchange program with the school I was at in Beijing.”

“Whoa. You got invited to teach classes? You must be really good.”

Winwin looked down, smiling. “Good enough, I guess. So...yeah, I started in August. This semester was my first time in Korea.”

“Aw, you’re still kind of a newbie here then,” Yuta said.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Winwin wrapped his hands around his latte again. “What about you? What brought you from Osaka to Seoul?”

Yuta shrugged. “I don’t know. A need for adventure? I always knew I’d travel for college. When the time came, it just seemed like Korea was the most logical option.”

“Mm hm. So you’re a senior...?”

“Yeah. Next semester’s my last one before graduation.”

Something crossed Winwin’s face—could it possibly have been disappointment?—and then was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He reached for a piece of cheesecake. “Wow, that’s great! Congratulations. You’re really close.”

“I‘m—I’ll probably stay here after graduation too,” Yuta hurried to say. Winwin looked up. “Seoul’s not getting rid of me that easily,” Yuta joked.

Winwin smiled slightly and said, “Me neither.”

“Your Korean’s really good for not being here long,” Yuta added, which made Winwin grin in surprise.

“Really? People always tell me that I talk like a little kid.”

Yuta frowned. “You’ve been here for what, three months? Do they expect you to be perfectly fluent already?”

Winwin looked down. “I don’t know. I guess you’re right.”

Yuta imagined roundhouse kicking whoever had said that to Winwin with no little satisfaction. “Well, it took me four long years to get to where I am now, and I still forget words all the time.”

Winwin looked surprised again. “You? I thought you were a native at first.”

“Really?” Yuta grinned. “Wow.”

“I can’t even tell if you have an accent.” Winwin laughed and continued, “I guess that’s because my ear isn’t fully accustomed to Korean yet, but...”

“I always think I don’t have an accent either, but my Korean friends say I do,” Yuta confessed.

“Ah. I guess they notice even the littlest difference in pronunciation, right?”

“Right.”

As the conversation slowed, Winwin looked out the window with a trace of a smile on his lips. At some point the sun had vanished, and Winwin’s face was now lit on one side by the mellow bakery lights and on the other by the blue streetlamp glowing on the twilit sidewalk. Yuta was starting to feel like Winwin was the most breathtaking creature he had ever laid eyes on in his life. He watched Winwin draw his coat sleeves over his palms and grip the bottom half of his cup where the tea was still giving off warmth. Yuta pointed at them and said, “Are you still cold?”

Winwin sighed. “My hands are always cold. Especially in the winter. I hate it.”

“Let me see,” Yuta said, surprising himself as well as Winwin. He held out his hands and Winwin looked at them for a moment before wordlessly setting his tea down and placing his hands in Yuta’s. Yuta immediately gasped.

“God, you weren’t kidding.”

Winwin laughed. “No, seriously. I have, like, terrible circulation.”

“No shit,” Yuta said in amazement, and grasped Winwin’s hands in his own in an attempt to squeeze some life into them. Winwin’s hands were still. Yuta felt the sudden urge to press them to his lips, like maybe he could kiss the cold out of them. He felt his face flush again at the thought. Winwin himself was gazing down at their clasped hands silently, and fearing that he was uncomfortable, Yuta forced himself to let go, his own hands falling to the tabletop.

“You’re so warm,” Winwin said, still looking at Yuta’s upturned palms.

Yuta wasn’t sure what to say. “Guess I have my good circulation to thank,” he said finally.

Winwin smiled.

Suddenly the earsplitting sound of a female voice crooning in English at top volume broke out over the bakery’s speakers. Yuta leapt out of his seat and Winwin slapped his hands over his ears. Johnny was crouched over the computer at the register, panic on his face as bells jingled impossibly loudly. “Johnny!” Yuta yelled, and couldn’t hear his own voice.

A second later the volume fell to barely a murmur, and Johnny waved from the register. “Sorry!” he called. “Just trying...just trying to put on some Christmas music!”

Yuta gave him a look. Johnny mouthed “I’m sorry” and Yuta rolled his eyes before sitting back down to find Winwin shaking with peals of laughter.

“That was...that was...” Winwin couldn’t even get the words out. Watching him, Yuta’s irritation faded and he started to giggle. “Sorry about him,” he began to say, and Winwin shook his head, holding his sides. His goofy, bellowing laugh didn’t suit his delicate features. The contrast was so adorable that soon Yuta was laughing just as hard as he was.

“He’s...he’s American...” Yuta managed to say. Winwin nodded, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “He plays a lot of American music...” Yuta continued.

“Ah,” Winwin said, little giggles still escaping him. “I always thought the name Johnny didn’t sound Korean either.”

“I guess we’re just a bunch of foreigners in here today,” Yuta said, and Winwin nodded, letting out a big exhale. “Guess you’re right.”

Both boys’ eyes fell to the cheesecake between them, which had been eaten away from both ends until only the small cube with the strawberry on top remained in the middle. Seeing that there was only enough left for one, Yuta pushed it closer to Winwin. “It’s yours.”

Winwin gave his head a little shake and pushed it back. “You should have it. I ate most of it.”

Yuta laughed. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah I did!”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take the strawberry and you eat the cake.”

“Call,” said Winwin, holding his hand over the table to shake. Yuta reached out and took it. It was as soft and cool as it had been five minutes ago. Yuta’s breath caught in his throat as Winwin, instead of letting go, caught hold of his fingers and pushed their palms together so that their hands were now pressed into a high five. For a moment the two were quiet.

“I thought my hand might be bigger,” Winwin murmured, as if to himself. He glanced at Yuta and let out a soft laugh. “But...it’s not.”

Yuta stared at the boy across from him for a few more seconds before realizing that he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly, not daring to move lest he disrupt the fireworks going off in his stomach.

“By the way...what are you studying?” Winwin asked without pulling his hand away. “I just realized I never asked.” With his other hand, he picked his fork back up and scooped the remainder of the cheesecake into his mouth, leaving only the strawberry on the plate. He pointed at it meaningfully.

Yuta reached for the strawberry, trying to mentally kick his brain out of its daze. “Oh, uh. Uh. Philosophy and religious studies. I’m a double major.”

“Oh my gosh,” Winwin said. “That sounds, like, emotionally exhausting.”

Yuta let out a sighing laugh. “Oh, yeah. It definitely can be. Some of the time it’s just boring though.”

“Are you, like,” Winwin began, and paused as if distracted by the warmth of Yuta’s hand. Yuta waited for him to go on. “...a pretty religious person?” Winwin finished after a moment.

“Honestly?” Yuta said, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest while simultaneously focusing on the conversation.

“Honestly,” said Winwin.

“I’m not really religious at all,” Yuta admitted. “More than that I’m curious why other people are religious. What it is that makes them feel so...like, believe so strongly in something they can’t see.”

The smile on Winwin’s face was softer than a rose petal. “You’ve never believed in something you couldn’t see?”

Yuta’s mouth was dry. “Have you?”

Winwin’s gaze traveled to their hands, neither of which had moved.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

It suddenly seemed that Yuta could believe in anything at all with Winwin’s fingertips pressed against his own.

“You, though,” Winwin said, leaning back and withdrawing his hand, “you’re different. You’re the kind of guy who can’t stop looking for answers.”

“Me?” Yuta laughed, trying to hide his disappointment at the lack of contact. “Well, I don’t know. I guess I just figured that if I was going to spend a significant amount of time wondering about the meaning of life and stuff like that, I might as well get a degree or two for it.”

Winwin gazed at him for a moment. Yuta couldn’t help but wonder what he was seeing. “So,” Winwin said, “have you found the meaning of life yet?”

Yuta let out a short laugh. “No.”

“I know why,” Winwin said with a smile that was at once cheeky and shy.

Yuta returned the smile. “Okay, why?”

“You’re looking in the wrong places,” Winwin said. “You don’t find the type of answers you’re looking for in books.”

“You’ve got me all figured out, huh,” Yuta said, grinning.

Winwin laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

“All right, Mr. Sicheng,” Yuta said, pronouncing the boy’s name with a flourish and making Winwin roll his eyes good-naturedly, “if you’re so smart, then what is the meaning of life you can’t find in books?” 

“Art,” said Winwin without hesitation.

Yuta raised his eyebrows. “Art?”

Winwin nodded surely. “Creating art.”

“Then am I screwed if I can’t paint?”

“Anything can be art if you do it right,” Winwin said earnestly. “Art is just something that means more than the sum of its parts. Like...dance is just limbs moving around to a rhythm, right? But its meaning is bigger than that.”

“And a painting is just some colors on a canvas,” Yuta joined in, “but it expresses something more.”

“Yes!” Winwin’s eyes were shining. “It’s the same with anything. A song isn’t just a bunch of pitched sounds, it’s a melody that can mean sadness or joy or, hell,” he threw up his hands, “it can even mean Christmas! Even just you and me sitting here eating cheesecake can be art if it means more than just...sitting...”

Winwin stopped with a look on his face that suggested he hadn’t meant to say that in quite those words. Yuta was breathless. They stared at each other across the table.

“If...” Yuta tried to say. “If—“

“Hey, uh, guys?”

Yuta almost swore at the sound of Johnny’s voice, but then noticed as he turned around that Johnny had cleared the display case and shut down the machines by himself. “It’s two to five,” Johnny called.

Yuta opened his phone to check the time for himself. “Shit,” he huffed, and looked back at Winwin. “We close in a minute...”

Winwin was shaking his head. “It’s only five. Aren’t you guys open till seven?”

“Usually, but.” Yuta waved at nothing in particular. “It’s Christmas Eve, so we’re closing early.” 

Winwin’s face fell.

“I’m sorry,” Yuta said.

“Oh, no! No worries. I’ll just! Head to the bathroom real quick and then I’ll grab my stuff.”

“Okay,” said Yuta uncertainly, remaining in the seat until Winwin was out of room and then dashing to Johnny, who was taking off his apron.

“John,” Yuta panted, practically skidding to a stop in front of the register.

“Duuude,” Johnny said with a grin.

“So?” Yuta began to untie his own apron. “What do you think?”

“What the fuck do I think? In my unprofessional fucking opinion, Yuta, that guy is Into You like the Ariana song,” Johnny said, haphazardly folding the apron and tossing it under the counter.

Yuta’s heart leapt. “Really? You seriously think so?”

“Yuta, you must be kidding. He shared a dessert with you. Plus what the fuck was all that hand touching? He wants to raise three children and a dog with you.”

“That’s...” Yuta heard the bathroom door open and muttered, “Shut up, shut up.” Johnny rolled his eyes, smirking, and then exchanged Yuta’s apron for his coat over the counter.

Shrugging into his jacket, Yuta returned to the table to pick up the plate and forks. When he turned around, Winwin was emerging from the back hallway. Their eyes found each other across the bakery at the same moment. Yuta was struck for the umpteenth time by Winwin’s airy beauty—his pale hair, big eyes, small smile like a bird that might flit away any second. Yuta stood motionless as Winwin crossed the room to him.

“Well...thanks a lot for the cheesecake,” said Winwin, nodding at the plate in Yuta’s hands.

“Thanks for sharing it with me.”

“Anytime,” said Winwin with a smile.

Johnny appeared next to them, snaking an arm around Yuta to lift away the plate. “I’ll just grab this and stick it in the...” His voice trailed off as he headed back towards the dishwasher.

Yuta and Winwin stood facing each other for several seconds. Finally Winwin broke the silence. “Well, I’ll get my mittens.”

“Yeah. Right. I’ll uh...get the lights,” Yuta said.

A minute later the two were standing in the chill wind outside the bakery with Johnny locking the door behind them. Johnny jiggled the key out and immediately took off down the sidewalk, calling back, “Merry Christmas, guys! Have a great holiday!”

“Merry Christmas!” Winwin replied with a wave, voice muffled by the huge scarf wrapped around his mouth.

“See you at Friendsmas tomorrow, Yuta!” Johnny yelled. A moment later he was gone.

Winwin turned back to Yuta. “Friendsmas?”

Yuta laughed awkwardly. “Ah, it’s my friend’s name for our Christmas party. None of us have family in town and we can’t really afford to go all the way home so we just get together every Christmas and give each other presents and drink a bunch of eggnog.”

“Aw. That’s really sweet.” Yuta thought there was a note of sadness in Winwin’s muffled voice.

“Yeah,” he said.

Winwin scuffed his feet on the pavement. In the glow of the streetlamp his eyelashes cast little shadows on his cheeks. Yuta was trying to think of a way to ask for his number or make an impromptu love declaration or wrap his arms around him, anything to keep Winwin there with him for just a minute longer, when Winwin said, “Well, I’ve got to go catch my bus, I guess.”

Yuta‘s heart dropped. “Oh...yeah.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Winwin said. “I mean, like, really meet you.”

“Me too. I’m glad...” Yuta trailed off, unable to think of a way to finish the sentence.

“So...see you next semester?” Winwin said hopefully. “You’ll still be working here, right? I’ll be back!”

“Yeah. Of course!” Yuta wondered idly if he could possibly wait until next semester started to see Winwin again. Guess I’ll have to, he thought.

“Great. Well. Have a nice Christmas.” Winwin started to walk away down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder and waved a pink mittened hand. “Bye, Yuta.”

Yuta waved back. “Bye, Sicheng.”

Winwin was well out of the light of the streetlamp when Yuta was beset by a sudden, hollow sort of panic, like he was watching his own heart walk away down the street. The feeling was so startling that he took a step backwards. In the same moment, Winwin turned around.

“Wait!”

They stared down the sidewalk at one another. A split second passed before either of them understood that they had both shouted the same word at the exact same time.

Winwin closed the distance between them at a run. When he stopped in front of Yuta, he was breathing heavily.

“What...what were you...” Yuta whispered.

Winwin tore the scarf away from his face and said, “I have to tell you something. I—I—I wanted to talk to you all semester. But I didn’t because I was scared. Because I liked you. I like you. I mean, I know I don’t really know you at all, but I want to get to know you.” The words were spilling out of him as if they had been piled up inside like train cars. “And I feel like I do already, like, in a way, you remind me of home, like I’m safe and—and—understood, and I’ve never felt that way in Korea before, and you don’t have to say anything because I know I’m practically a stranger—“

“Winwin. Winwin—”

“—and I’m randomly saying all this to you and we’re not even, like, friends, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I—”

“Sicheng!” Yuta placed his hands on either side of Winwin’s face.

Winwin paused mid-sentence. Their eyes met from the exact same height—neither of them looking up or down.

“...felt that way,” Winwin finished in a hushed voice, as if he were suddenly exhausted.

“So did I,” Yuta said.

Winwin opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.

“So did I,” Yuta said again, and his words hung in curtains of vapor in the winter air. “I wanted to talk to you all semester. And get to know you better. I want to spend time with you, and find out more about you, and I want to make you feel safe and at home, and I want to talk about the meaning of life with you and see you dance and kiss you and hold your hands to warm them up...”

Winwin was smiling, his face leaning slightly into Yuta’s left hand. He looked enchanted and enchanting. Yuta stopped talking to look at him.

“You can do that,” Winwin said, barely above a whisper, eyes shining.

“Which part?”

Both of them laughed quietly, as much out of amazement at each other as out of mirth.

“All of it,” answered Winwin, and Yuta moved closer, his hands still cupping Winwin’s cheeks. “All of it?” asked Yuta, and Winwin nodded into his hands. “All of it.” The space between their faces was barely more than an inch.

“Well? What else are you waiting for?” whispered Winwin, looking back and forth between Yuta’s eyes. “Kiss me,” and Yuta did, leaning forward so that their lips touched lightly for a long second before pressing his mouth flush to Winwin’s. Winwin responded with a minute gasp, so small it could perhaps have been a sigh, and returned the pressure urgently. Their mouths moved together in unison, slow and deliberate. Yuta felt Winwin place fingertips along his jaw with one hand and card through his hair with the other. It was perfect symmetry. Every touch was a puzzle piece fitting into place, every point of contact bloomed magic.

They broke for a breath, foreheads pressed together, and then Winwin pulled his head back so he could see Yuta’s face. Yuta looked back at him, feelings he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before flooding through him like ink through water.

“That,” Winwin said with a small smile, “that was art.”

* * * 

“I can’t believe you’re a regular at the bakery and I never saw you there once,” said Yuta, clasping one of Winwin’s unmittened hands between his as they walked together to Winwin’s bus stop.

“I can’t believe we sat in the same lecture hall twice a week for four months and never spoke,” Winwin added.

“Remember that time last month when Professor Park told you to pass back the exams...”

Winwin laughed. “You had, like, a 94. I was like, ‘Oh, this guy’s smart...’”

“I tried to catch your eye when you handed it to me,” Yuta giggled, “and you didn’t even look at me!”

“I WAS NERVOUS...”

“You’re so cute,” Yuta said, and Winwin rolled his eyes, holding back a grin.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Yuta asked as they stopped underneath the signpost marking the bus stop.

Winwin looked away. “Tomorrow? Ah...I’ll probably watch some movies...”

Yuta’s smile fell away. “What, alone?”

Winwin shrugged, nodding. “My closest friend here went back to Thailand to be with his family for the holiday, and I don’t really...I’ll video chat my family at some point, so...”

“You can’t be alone on Christmas!” Yuta exclaimed.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll have some time to catch up on sleep and stuff—“

“Come to Friendsmas! The guys won’t mind! We always have enough eggnog for one more,” Yuta said, folding his fingers between Winwin’s and wrapping his other hand over their knuckles.

A smile returned to Winwin’s face, this one shy and circumspect. “Friendsmas? Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude...”

“You‘d never be an intrusion,” Yuta said gently.

“Thank you, Yuta, but...that’s your tradition with your friends! I don’t want to be in the way...”

Yuta kissed him. Winwin softened, melting into the contact.

“If you don’t want to come, that’s okay,” Yuta murmured. “You don’t have to if you’ll be uncomfortable. But if you’re worried about my friends, don’t be. They’re ‘the more, the merrier’ type of guys. They’d want you to come.” Yuta looked him in the eye. “I want you to come.”

Winwin gazed back at Yuta for a moment before nodding, his little smile spreading wider across his face. “Okay,” he said, and Yuta breathed out in relief. “Okay? Yes?” Winwin nodded, grinning. “Yes, I’d love to come.”

“Great,” Yuta said, and was surprised to find Winwin’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a hug. The motion was tender, and Yuta was hit again by a wave of that enormous feeling he didn’t fully understand. He circled his arms around Winwin’s waist, leaning into the solid frame underneath the puffy coat.

“Thank you,” Winwin said as he let go of Yuta, who pulled away but let one hand remain on Winwin’s waist.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Winwin was digging into his coat pocket for something. He pulled out his phone, clicked a few times and presented it to Yuta. “Add your number, and then I’ll text you so you can give me the address.”

“I can also pick you up wherever and we can go together,” Yuta said as he lifted the phone from Winwin’s hand and put in his contact information.

“Okay.” Winwin was smiling. He took the phone back from Yuta and laughed. “You put a strawberry next to your name.”

“Just—so you don’t forget who I am,” Yuta said, a little embarrassed.

Winwin snorted as if that were the silliest thing in the world that Yuta could say. “Yeah, right. As if I could.” The words sent a tremor down Yuta’s spine.

“Hey...that’s my bus,” Winwin said, nodding at the bus rounding the corner down the street. Yuta looked at the number on the bus and then faced Winwin. “You live on north campus?”

Winwin nodded.

“That’s where Doyoung lives,” said Yuta.

“Doyoung...?”

“We’re having Friendsmas at his house. It’s on Gangnam Street,” Yuta told him.

“Gangnam Street? I live on Gangnam Street!” Winwin said as the bus pulled up next to them.

“Oh! I’ll pick you up there, then!”

“Okay!” Winwin was waving goodbye again, this time with a broad smile. Their hands trailed apart as Winwin stepped onto the bus. Yuta waved. “Bye Winwin!”

They held each other’s gazes until the bus doors closed, and Yuta stared after it as its rear lights receded into the evening. He stood still for several seconds, and then flung his arms out and spun around. The air was cold on his flushed skin. He felt like he could do anything—like the world was bigger than he had ever known, and it was all his, his to take and mold and move. He laughed aloud.

Suddenly he remembered Johnny, and pulled out his phone. There were seven unread texts from Johnny himself and thirty in the group chat. Yuta went straight to the chat, where Taeil had written, Yuta what’s going on Johnny said you found hot guy from anthro class at the bakery and now you’re sharing cheesecake???

HOT GUY FROM ANTHRO CLASS ?? Taeyong had sent, followed by Jaehyun: i want cheesecake :-(

Johnny tell us what’s happening, Doyoung had demanded.

Yuta giggled as he scrolled down through a slew of narration by Johnny. now they’re playing with each other’s hands BYE this is desgostang, Johnny had sent, typing the last word in distorted English.

that’s so cute

If this brat doesn’t get that boy’s number istg

Yuta scrolled to the bottom—the last of the texts was a string of money-face emojis from Jaehyun—and typed, still giggling in disbelief at the whole situation, Guys what just happened

Johnny replied first. YOU TELL US ?

I literally have no idea I think I just fell in love oh my god help

Taeyong keyboard smashed violently and Doyoung texted, Ok don’t get ahead of yourself there cowboy.

As Yuta began to reply, a new text came in from an unknown number.

hi yuta !!

It was quickly followed by another: oh this is sicheng haha

Yuta pressed his phone to his chest. When he pulled it away again, he had another new text, this one from Johnny:

DID HE SAY THE L WORD??? MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic so it’s not perfect but i had so much fun writing it and i hope u guys have fun reading it <3 find me on twt at @ mfalfanclub and happy holidays even though this is super late


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